


Better to Burn Out

by Jaysop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Back rubs, Caring!Dean, Caring!Sam, Emetophilia, Fever, Fluff, Library Sex, M/M, Sassy, Sastiel - Freeform, Sick!Dean, Vomit, Wincest (implied), Wincestiel (implied), and cuddles, anti-wing!fic? is that a thing?, destiel (implied), loosely based on s09 (sort of), sick!Cas, sick!Sam, sick!fic, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaysop/pseuds/Jaysop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gives everyone the stomach flu, Cas ruins the endings to movies, and Dean gets a little jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better to Burn Out

**Author's Note:**

> There just isn't enough Sastiel out there so this is my contribution. Also…and I’m not sure how this happened…but I wrote some teen!chester. Yup. So there’s that. The AU is the same as The Turnpike and Nothing Else Matters with a teeny bit taken from season 9 only because I thought it made for some great dialogue. 
> 
> It’s another sick!fic sprinkled with just a dash of smut :) Enjoy!

“Stop fucking with the heat, Cas! It’s already hot as hell in here.” Dean smacked the fallen angel’s hand as soon as he saw him going for the dial again out of his peripheral vision.

“Then _why_ am I still freezing?” Cas shivered drawing his coat tighter around himself and pouting beneath crossed arms. Sam stirred from the backseat where he had been sleeping as a fit of coughing racked his lanky frame.

“Looks like …you’re sick too…” Sam said between hacking. It was no surprise since Sam had been sick for a few days already and the three were in such close quarters stuck inside the Impala for lord knows how many hours.

The road seemed to stretch on forever into an endless white void against an even whiter sky. Large puffy snowflakes were falling lazily, pushed aside by the despondent moan of wiper blades that needed replacing soon. Dean had resorted to steering with his knees as he maneuvered out of his jacket tossing it into Cas’ lap. He cracked the window and dragged a sleeve across his sweat covered face.

“You’re killing me, Cas,” Dean said turning the heat down for the third time in as many minutes. Cas spread the jacket across his chest like a blanket. He raised an eyebrow at Dean’s comment, distress evident in his big blue eyes.

“Dean, I would _never_ \--” Dean cut him off before he could finish.

“It’s a figure of speech. It means you’re a pain in my ass,” Dean said.

“I _know_ that’s righ--”Sam piped up with some juvenile laughter but was cut short as another coughing fit seized his lungs making them burn. Dean sighed and rolled the window back up.

“You alright back there, Sammy?” Dean asked eyeing his younger brother in the rear view mirror.

“Just…great…” Sam managed to say between coughing, the color draining away from his face.

“Well, you look like crap warmed over,” Dean commented bluntly. Sam was coughing so hard it started to sound like choking. He managed to roll his window down as the choking turned into gagging.

“Aw shit…” Dean mumbled as Sam hauled himself out the window and puked, yellow colored spew streaking down the length of the Impala and leaving a trail behind in the freshly fallen snow. Dean pulled off onto the shoulder as Sam finished emptying his stomach, his ridiculously long torso hanging halfway out the window.

Meanwhile Cas was steadily shaking in the passenger seat, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. He was trying hard to ignore the retching sounds coming from the back seat. He was trying even harder to ignore the full feeling in his stomach that was making his throat feel tight. Cas swallowed audibly stretching out the collar of his shirt and Dean shot him a knowing look.

“Don’t you dare…” Dean was already reaching across Cas’ lap to crack the door open before the fallen angel knew what was going on. Dean pushed against his back forcing him to face the snow covered pavement outside. The older hunter’s hand was pressed firmly against him coaxing him to lean forward. Cas’ vision swam for a moment the motion of leaning forward and the sounds still emanating from Sam proving to be too much. He closed his eyes as his stomach lurched, the new but now familiar feeling creeping into his throat. Soon he was gagging, bringing up the dinner they had eaten a few hours prior.

 “Jesus…” Dean muttered as he held on to Cas’ jacket. He could feel the muscles in his back flutter against his fist with every heave. It was making Dean cringe.  

“Cas…just breathe buddy…you got this,” Dean soothed as Cas continued to retch into the snow. Sam was still hanging out the window, a few lingering spasms making him dry heave.

When it was all over, Cas expected relief but the nausea stayed hanging around him like smoke. He heaved a third time, eyes beginning to water, vomit splattering into the snow in stark contrast to the colorless surroundings.

Dean swallowed thickly. He needed some air.

Dean let go of Cas’ jacket and opened his door, stepping out into the stark backdrop of winter. The engine was still humming, exhaust breathing out thick billows of gray smoke that floated away to merge silently with the pallid sky. The chilly air of the winter evening washed over him as snowflakes touched down against his hot skin. Dean could swear he saw them evaporate into steam as they landed on his face. The hunter filled his lungs with frigid air awakening his senses, misty breath gathering around his face.

It was more than Cas’ preoccupation with cranking up the heat that was making Dean so miserable. It was the beginning of a fever. He recognized it. The soreness in the back of his throat and the relentless fatigue that only comes from sickness was pulling at his body slowly coaxing him to stop for the night. He had been fighting against it for several hours now. Dean knew it was time to accept the inevitable.  He had been pushing himself past the point of exhaustion and running his body into the ground.  But what else was new, Dean mused. If his two passengers hadn’t faded so fast he could have kept pushing.

Dean raked a hand through his short hair trying to muster enough energy to keep driving. They had been on the road for almost 16 hours now and he had nothing left to give. His body was betraying him, forcing him to make a decision.

“Fuck…” Dean kicked the gray wall of dirty snow that lined the rural country road. It broke apart into slushy chunks. Dean’s thoughts shifted as he silently remembered when Sam was young. Sam inevitably caught the flu every winter and Dean was left to pick up the pieces. There were long nights that Dean had stayed awake watching over his younger brother, making sure his fever didn’t burn hot enough to fry his little brain. Memories of one night in particular flooded back in a nauseating wave. Dean would be lying if he said the recollection of that night didn’t still make him grind his teeth together.

***

It had been another nameless motel on a nameless street in Dean’s memory, somewhere north of Detroit maybe, or had they stopped near Chicago? For Dean, all the motels along the path of his and Sam’s childhood blended together into one long unending procession of outdated floral wallpapers and yellowed popcorn ceilings. The only constant was that Sam was there and that Dad usually wasn’t. Dean tended to hold onto the few things in life that he could rely on and Sam’s unconditional love for him was about the only thing he had left. He wasn’t about to fuck that up by letting the kid boil to death under cheap polyester sheets.

“Common, Sammy,” Dean was saying. “Common. Get up.”

A younger Dean, quickly approaching manhood in the physical sense, but already having seen enough shit to be a man 10 times over, was dragging his younger brother out of bed. Dean’s emerald eyes shone intensely in the dark motel room fear evident in his youthful face. Sam was struggling to stand up. He reached out for his older brother who offered a steadying arm.

It was the last year that Sam would be shorter then Dean, and if you paid attention you could almost see it happening. Sam was all arms and legs with the proportions of a young Great Dane that hasn’t quite grown into its paws yet. When the brothers’ eyes met it was almost on a level field now. Sam’s hazel eyes looked panicked and exhausted. His long hair was sticking to his face in sweaty clumps. Sam had been sick before Dad had even left. Even though he didn’t have a thermometer handy, Dean knew that Sam’s fever was burning too hot.

“Dee…I wanna sleep…” Sam whimpered as his brother ushered him into the bathroom.

“I know Sammy, you can sleep in a minute.” Dean was stripping the younger boy’s pajamas leaving him naked and shivering, cold tile stinging bare feet.

“Dee…” Sam’s voice was small and pathetic and it wavered just slightly an indication that tears were on the way. Dean put a cool hand to his cheek and winced as he felt the burning skin underneath his palm.

Short of calling an ambulance Dean was running out of options.

He had been feeding Sam tylenol and water to take down the fever but none of it had stayed in Sam’s stomach more than a few minutes before the kid was throwing up into the trashcan Dean had hastily handed him. After being up for three nights straight, although he didn’t dare show it, Dean was beginning to go into panic mode. Even when it seemed that Sam had drifted off, the moment Dean got up Sam called out for him in that small terrified voice.

“I’m right here, Sammy,” Dean had said his voice hoarse with exhaustion, “I’m here.”

So Dean had just stayed awake, watching over him like a silent sentinel, waiting for the fever to break. Days had blended together into nights until Dean couldn’t recall how long this had been going on. Had it been too long?

“Listen Sammy…” Dean was talking gently to him trying to coax him into the shower, “this is gonna suck. It’s gonna suck really bad.”

Sam was shivering violently now his arms crossed around his small frame, his tired eyes pleading with Dean, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. He bit the insides of his cheeks hard trying to stifle the tears that were intent on escaping down his burning cheeks. Dean place a gentle kiss on his forehead before positioning him with his back to the shower head. Sam didn’t put up too much of a fight; there was an unspoken trust there with roots extending as far back as either of them could remember. Dean slowly turned the dial and it squealed open as cold water began rushing down Sam’s back.

“Too cold!” Sam was crying now curled up in the corner of the stall shower as far away as he could get from the water’s reach. Suddenly there were two strong arms around him, pulling him back under the stinging water.

Dean had gotten into the shower fully clothed.

“Shh…it’s ok…it’s ok…” Dean was whispering to him, his breath warm against Sam’s ruddy cheek. He was tracing fingers through his brother’s soft hair pushing it out of his eyes, letting the cool water soak through. Sam threw his arms around his older brother and buried his face in Dean’s chest, hot tears soaking into his already drenched shirt. A torrid of cool water ran down the length of Sam’s back and Dean almost swore he saw steam rising off him. Sam was still shaking as the ice cold water flowed around them. Dean didn’t feel it. All Dean felt was his brother clinging to him, long thin fingers gripping the back of his shirt and tightening into fists. All Dean felt was the tightness in his own shoulder blades as Sam cried and choked against his chest. When the younger boy finally began to relax against him Dean hoped it was a sign that this was working. God, he hoped it was working.

“You’re gonna be ok,” Dean remembered saying, hoping that by speaking the words it might make them true. “And I’m not going anywhere…I promise.”

***

Dean was staring off into the distance at nothing in particular; images of his past still strong and vivid like a waking dream in front of his eyes.  He shook off the cold as the memories faded and the world around him came back into focus.

The hunter slowly made his way to the passenger side of the Impala to survey the damage.  Sam never did get his door open. He was still breathing heavily, one hand gripping the edge of the open window, the other rested on his sour stomach, his shirt pushed up revealing skin. Cas had his eyes closed with his head between his knees and his feet planted wide apart in the snow. Streaks of already drying vomit trailed from Sam’s window and down the back quarter panel of the car that Dean had just spent the better part of last weekend meticulously waxing.

“Great…just great…” Dean was muttering, voice all full of aggravation masking his actual concern. Sarcasm was always the best defense mechanism.

“Hey…at least Cas didn’t puke in the car…that’s a first…” Sam said managing to free himself from the back seat and stagger out into the snow. He walked over to Cas and laid one big hand on his shoulder. The raven haired man looked up at him, eyes shimmering with tears. 

“Sorry Cas,” Sam said his voice low and full of empathy. The two exchanged a look of silent understanding before Sam helped him into the back seat. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Alright…if you two are empty now can we get this show on the road or what?” Dean’s words were ignored. He might as well have been talking to himself.

Sam had settled into the back seat with Cas curled up against his side. The younger man extended a long arm around Cas’ shoulders pulling him in close. Cas tucked his disheveled head under Sam’s chin settling in against him, fingers searching inside his shirt in earnest to steal some warmth. Sam winced as Cas’ ice cold fingertips met skin.

“Jesus, Cas…” Sam said as he rubbed up and down the fallen angel’s back trying to bring warmth back to his body. Cas stayed silent still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had gotten sick but still didn’t feel any better. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of Sam’s shirt, a soothing combination of cheap motel soap and the smoky remnants of charred remains. There was something about that smell, Cas mused, that always seemed to calm him. Maybe it was because it reminded him of when he first met the brothers. Maybe it was because he associated it with Sam and it had become synonymous with his calm demeanor. Whatever it was, Cas thought, it was like coming home.

Dean watched them for a moment in silence. Cas had become much closer with his younger brother and that fact had not escaped Dean. It had happened slowly over the past few months like the inevitable progression of fall into winter. When Dean had been preoccupied and distant Sam had been patient and gentle with Cas. Dean could see it in his angel’s eyes when he looked at his younger brother. He could see it in Sam too.

He should have been jealous, Dean thought, but the relationship between the three men was far too complicated for such a simple emotion.  Cas’ love was too infinite for one monogamous relationship; Dean had realized this going in. But he also liked to think that his bond with Cas was something unique, something that no one else could duplicate. Looking at the pair in the backseat of the Impala, Dean felt the slightest twinge of jealousy, his angel curled up and contented against his brother’s chest. At the same time, Sam and Dean had their own _unique_ relationship that Dean wasn’t willing to give up for anyone, not even an angel of the lord. So really, jealousy had no place in the complicated equation that was Dean’s love life.

Dean sighed as he watched Sam rubbing Cas’ back, a simple gesture that the younger Winchester had only recently discovered Cas adored. He soothed the smaller man until the shaking had almost stopped, Cas looking childlike and peaceful. Cas melted against him, his mind drifting to more pleasant memories.

***

Cas had been bored all day, a human emotion he was still trying to get used to. Dean had crept off to the garage early that morning, muttering about having some quality time with his baby. Cas had trailed behind him looking like a lost dog. He soon became uninterested with watching Dean lovingly going over every inch of paint and chrome, cooing little whispers of pillow talk to his beloved Impala as he rubbed wax into her sides with an old t-shirt.

“I’d let ya help, Cas…you know…if ya want.” Dean offered this rare gesture of comradery to his angel, something that he didn’t even extend to his own brother.

“That’s ok, Dean. I’ll leave you two alone,” Cas declined with a heavy sigh leaving the older Winchester to continue his meditation-like trance in peace.

The fallen angel walked the length of the bunker alone with his thoughts, longing to spread wings that no longer existed, reduced to traveling only where his legs could take him. As he wandered, even as sprawling and vast as the bunker was, he still felt trapped, a prisoner in his own body.

He ended up lurking in the entryway to the library. A single table lamp was on in front of Sam who was surrounded by piles of ancient books. The sound of Sam’s fingers rapidly striking the keys of his laptop echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

Cas watched him for awhile. Sam was fully absorbed in the task ahead of him, only stopping for a moment to push a strand of long hair behind one ear, a pencil clenched between his teeth. The light of the lamp played off his sharp features, casting shadows along his angular jaw line and jutting collarbone. Cas tipped his head to one side with a sort of reverence as he contemplated Sam’s form, thinking at times that the younger Winchester reminded him of someone from his past, maybe from the days he had spent in ancient Greece, or maybe when he had visited Italy during the Renaissance. Cas mused that DaVinci would have found Sam irresistible in this light, his body bathed in shadow revealing its near perfect symmetry. Cas chuckled at the thought of his old friend, a memory from the past that made him happy and somehow sad at the same time.

“Oh, hey Cas.” Sam looked up from his laptop slightly startled.  The dark haired man meandered his way into the library, taking a seat atop the table next to Sam’s chaotic work space.

“Hello Samuel,” Cas said his voice deep and listless. He picked up an open book and thumbed through it, not looking at anything in particular. Sam stretched his shoulder blades back and stifled a yawn.

“What’s wrong, Cas. You seem…more serious than normal,” Sam asked picking up on this new found apathy that seemed to radiate of him. The more intuitive out of the two brothers, Sam always seemed to know when Cas needed to talk.

“I feel strange,” Cas began trying to put his emotions into words, “like I have no purpose, like I should be somewhere else.” Sam chuckled and Cas raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds like you got a case of cabin fever,” Sam said closing his laptop realizing he hadn’t taken a break in several hours. His dark haired companion put the back of a hand to his pale forehead.

“I do not feel feverish…” He said confusion evident in his expression.

“No, Cas, it means you’ve been cooped up in here for too long. Hell, we all have.” Sam looked into the fallen angel’s eyes, so deep and blue, and for a moment he was lost in them.

“But you and Dean, you are unaffected by this ‘cabin fever’?” Cas was trying to understand. He was beginning to think something was wrong with him.

“No, no, we’re definitely both feeling it. Why do you think Dean’s been holed up in the garage since breakfast?” Sam knew his explanation wasn’t getting through by the way Cas cocked his head giving him a sideways glance. There was something about that look that always produced a quiver of excitement in Sam’s chest.

“I find myself…thinking too much,” Cas said searching for the appropriate words. “I seem to be preoccupied with the loss of my powers, especially…my wings….”

Cas’ gaze fell to the floor, embarrassment burning in his cheeks at admitting this bit of information to Sam. The younger Winchester stood up, pushing the books aside so he could sit next to Cas, long legs dangling off the table and almost touching the floor. Sam put one big hand on Cas’ back, lightly touching the space between his shoulder blades. He felt the muscles underneath his fingers go rigid, the feeling of someone touching him there where his wings should have been somehow making things worse. Sam started to knead the fallen angel’s tight shoulders with his thumb, only eliciting a small sigh from Cas in return.

“Feels good right?” Sam asked. Cas was still looking at the floor like. “Hey now, I wouldn’t be able to do this…you know…if those big wings a yours were in the way.”

“Mmm…” Cas mumbled, the cantor in his voice telling Sam that at least some part of him was enjoying this. Sam continued to rub Cas’ back, fingers finding pressure points that Cas didn’t even realize he had. He let out a little moan as Sam’s massive hands massaged his aching muscles.

“Have you ever had a backrub before, Cas?”  Cas shook his head no and Sam just beamed. He reveled in sharing these new experiences with Cas. He vowed to flaunt it in Dean’s face later that he had popped Cas’ backrub cherry. That definitely counted for something.

“Before…touching me there…was different,” Cas finally spoke, his voice solemn, referring to his once angelic body. Sam could tell the fallen angel was still ruminating over the whole ordeal.

“You just need a good distraction,” Sam said gently as his slender fingers came in contact with the side of Cas’ face forcing their eyes to meet. He hopped down from the table and extended a hand to Cas coaxing him to sit backwards in a chair. Sam helped him remove his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion. Sam towered above Cas, long fingers continuing to work into his back. The fallen angel was beginning to let himself enjoy this simple pleasure.

“Isn’t that better?” Sam asked his voice low and soothing. He bit his lower lip as he surveyed the expanse of pale bare skin before him. Cas moaned in agreement the thoughts that had plagued his mind finally subsiding only to be replaced by other emotions.

Sam took this cue to reach a massive hand around Cas’ chest fingers splayed across the uneven terrain of his body. Cas sucked in a sharp gasp as he felt Sam’s large warm hands caressing him. Sam’s fingers trailed lower as his warm breath puffed against Cas’ skin.

Cas let out a small moan as Sam deftly unbuttoned the ex-angel’s pants long hair tickling against his side and warm lips laying a path of kisses there.  He reached inside freeing Cas’ growing erection with skilled fingers. Cas leaned back against the younger hunter craning his neck around to meet heated lips as Sam fondled him.

“I like this distraction…” Cas was saying as Sam slowly stroked him from base to tip, a dribble of precum making his hand slick. Sam’s straining cock twitched uncomfortably against the zipper in his jeans.

“So do I…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he teased the head of Cas’ cock making the dark haired man moan louder. The sounds he pulled from Cas’ lips were making Sam start to sweat uncomfortably. Cas swallowed hard as Sam pulled his warm hands away fighting to free himself from his clothing.

Cas turned around in his chair to face the taller man, letting his pants pool around his ankles. Sam had already shed his shirt and was undoing his belt. His heavy jeans fell to the floor with a metallic clink from his belt buckle. Cas took a deep breath, the sight of Sam’s perfect form laid bare before him making the fallen angel even harder. Sam smiled coyly as he watched Cas start to touch himself, his mouth falling slack as his eyes burned into Sam’s body.

Sam let this go on for a little while longer reaching down to stroke himself as well, while he watched Cas working his cock in his fist. Sam knelt down in front of him still almost eye level with Cas even on his knees. Sam pulled him into a slow passionate kiss, tongue exploring his pretty mouth. He felt Cas’ delicate hands gripping his sides pulling him closer until skin met skin. Cas freed himself from the rest of his clothing and wrapped his pale legs around Sam’s waist. Sam picked him up easily, depositing him onto the table top, stacks of books falling to the floor in disarray.

Sam was kissing along the side of Cas’ jaw line, lips trailing down his neck, hot heady breath against his collarbone. Cas leaned back and his eyes fluttered shut as Sam pushed himself against his hips, throbbing flesh squeezing together, warm and wet.  

“We can do this…however you want, Cas,” Sam was saying between breathy gasps. Cas was grinding his hips against Sam, feeling as though he couldn’t tell where he ended and the younger hunter began. He could cum this way, just being close to Sam, feeling his heat surround him. Sam had other ideas.

“I want to taste you…” Sam said, tongue sliding down the expanse of Cas’ sweaty chest, hands gripping the sensitive insides of his thighs pushing his legs wide apart. Sam’s lips were hot and soft as they brushed against the head of his cock.

“Oh….Sam…” Cas stammered as Dean’s younger brother made Cas forget everything, the whole world melting away into nothing but ecstasy. The sounds of Cas’ bliss echoed off the high ceilings, making Sam unable to help himself from squeezing his own cock in his fist as he slowly slid his tongue up the underside of Cas’ length.

Cas started to buck his hips forward, aching to be swallowed deeper. Sam forced him to lean back on his elbows as he knelt down in front of him, Cas’ legs resting atop Sam’s broad shoulders. The hunter pulled his lover closer to the edge of the table, burying him to the hilt inside his throat, long hair tickling the inside of his thighs. Cas yelled out something unintelligible, most likely in Enochian, but Sam somehow didn’t need a translation.

Sam slowed down, teasing, drawing this out as long as he could. Cas wanted to cum down his throat. His body ached for release; Sam’s relaxed pace was torturing him. When Sam came up for air releasing Cas with a wet sounding plop, Cas pulled him off his knees and up the expanse of his smooth chest until their mouths met again.

Cas reached down and enveloped Sam’s length in his impossibly smooth palm, feeling him thrust up into his fist. Cas locked eyes with Sam, his blown pupils looking like drowning pools. The smaller man positioned Sam’s straining cock against his tight entrance. Sam couldn’t help himself and pressed inside, yelling out his name as Cas swallowed him eagerly. Cas cried out in pleasure and pain as Sam pushed in deep, his cock pulsing with the sudden friction.

“Cas….oh god Cas….” Sam was gripping him uncomfortably close, hands steadying Cas’ hips to keep from losing it all right there at his first thrust inside. Sam was so huge that it made Cas feel virgin tight.  Cas was stroking himself, precum dribbling over his fist in little spurts as Sam regained his composure, his breathing heavy and labored.

When he was sure it was safe to move without unloading into Cas, Sam repositioned them both, Cas leaning back on his elbows and Sam gripping the fallen angel’s leaking cock. Sam began thrusting forward in a slow but steady rhythm, sweat rolling down his chest, as he stroked Cas’ length.

Sam’s thrusts became faster as Cas pushed his swollen length into Sam’s fist, yelling out as each thrust tapped his prostate making him squirm. The remaining books on the table fell to the floor with an echoing thud but neither man noticed.

“Mmm…Sam….just like that….” Cas’ pleas went quickly from English to Enochian again as he got closer. Suddenly with a guttural yell Cas was coming hard, hot ejaculate streaming over Sam’s fist and up onto his own stomach.  The feeling of Cas tensing and convulsing around him put Sam over the edge and as he thrust hard one last time he was coming inside of his dark haired lover, gripping him close as vibrations of pleasure shook his whole body.

***

Dean was eyeing the pair in the rear view mirror as he turned the car around leaving fresh tire tracks in the virgin snow. Cas seemed like he was dreaming about something, a calm contented look on his face.  Sam was lazily carding his fingers through Cas’ unruly black hair, pausing to stifle a cough now and then.

“Hey…where are we going?” Sam asked finally noticing that his older brother had made an abrupt u-turn in the snow. When Dean didn’t answer right away Sam started to sense something was up. “You ok?”

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m fine.” Dean said cracking the window again, letting the cool air rush into the Impala, almost stinging against his heated skin. Dean was far from doing fine. Sweat was streaming down his face and the freckles on his cheeks were lost amidst the blush of fever.

“Ok.” Sam knew when to stop asking questions. When Dean merged back onto the highway he knew they were headed back to the bunker. Sam was a little surprised to say the least. Dean wasn’t the type of person to take a breather for anything, short of being hospitalized. It wasn’t in his nature to stop when he put his mind to something, bleeding and broken bones aside. Sam was starting to worry.

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Sam asked again. He could see his brother’s white knuckled fingers gripping the steering wheel. Cas stirred for a moment before nuzzling back against Sam’s chest.

“I’m good, ok. Just…keep an eye on Cas alright?” Dean sped up and merged into the left lane, a cloud of white fluffy snow streaming out behind them.  Dean wiped a hand across his face. He was trying to regain his composure but his body was having none of it. Dean swallowed hard as his breathing began to quicken.

They weren’t more than 5 miles down the highway when Dean pulled over the rumble strip and fishtailed skidding to a stop, leaving deep curving tracks behind them. He got his door open only seconds before he was violently sick. Cas stirred awake at the sounds of Dean retching.

“He’s fine, Cas.” Sam said sarcastically. Dean coughed and spit into the snow before wiping a sleeve across his mouth. Cas was looking concerned from the back seat. When Dean closed his door Cas wordlessly reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go home,” Dean said visibly shaking as he pulled back out onto the highway. The sound of Dean’s words sounded foreign to everyone present, but at the same time comforting to think that they had a home to go back to, even if it was just the bunker. It was as close to a real home as any of them had ever really had.

Sam watched Dean’s reflection in the rear view mirror, cautious to observe any sign that his brother should relinquish the keys to him. Cas settled back against Sam, feverish dreams in his head, as the Impala flew silently down the highway.

 

***

“This one’s a classic, Cas. How about Star Wars?” Dean was sitting Indian style on the floor with a pile of old VHS tapes made long ago spread out around him arranged in little towers. The piles to the right were ones Cas had abruptly blurted out the ending to. The ones to the left were still maybes.

“Ah yes, in which the protagonist discovers his love interest is actually his sis--” Dean cut him off.

“That is _not_ why I picked this…” Dean said. Cas gave him a smirk. “You know, there’s a little more to it than just tha--” This time it was Cas who interrupted all a buzz with his newly gained knowledge.

“It was heralded as one of the greatest technological achievements in filmmaking of its day and--”

“Now you’re just reciting Wikipedia, Cas. Just stop.” Dean added the tape to the “no” pile. He picked up another squinting to make out its handwritten title.

“Oh, this one’s great. Terminator 2.” Dean dusted off the ancient looking cassette gazing at it with a certain reverence that Cas couldn’t quite understand.

“Do you really find this movie believable, Dean? I mean, sentient robots traveling through time…”Cas was curled up on the couch in Dean’s borrowed clothes in an attempt to make him more comfortable. The ex-angel absently fingered one of the many moth eaten holes in the baggy black Metallica t-shirt that hung loosely on his small frame. Sam was lying down next to him, his feverish forehead resting against Cas’ thigh. The younger Winchester was wrapped in a red and black plaid flannel blanket that barely covered his ridiculously long torso, lanky legs dangling off the side of the couch.  Dean added Terminator 2 to the precariously stacked pile on his right with a huff.

“Demolition Man?” Dean asked his voice sounding worn out and frustrated. “That’s one of Sam’s favorites, isn’t it Sammy?”

“Mmm…” Sam had his eyes closed trying to stop the room from spinning. The stomach flu had hit all three of them hard but Sam seemed to be suffering the most. Cas looked down at the younger Winchester with weary concern evident in his large blue eyes. He reached behind him to reposition the ice pack that had fallen between couch cushions onto the back of Sam’s neck. Sam let out a small sigh as the cool fabric sent a shiver down his spine. He opened one eye and squinted up at Dean.

“For the love of god, can you two just pick _something_ …” Sam’s voice sounded hoarse and tired. He hadn’t slept, really slept, in over 24 hours. Every hour between what passed for sleep he would be getting up to stagger to the bathroom. The lines had all but blurred together between fitfully dosing and throwing up. Cas stretched an arm around Sam’s long sloping back, rubbing slowly to soothe him.

“If you’ve seen these movies already Dean, then why does it matter?” Cas asked still confused at the older Winchester’s preoccupation with agreeing on a film.

“Because… it just does, ok?” Dean’s aggravation was starting to show in his voice. He had been Cas’ guide thus far into the realm of all things human and damned if he was going to let Metatron take that away from him. Sure, Cas now knew the ending to every film ever made but he hadn’t _experienced_ them, not like Sam and Dean had growing up. Dean always relished in deciphering Cas’ expressions when they watched movies together, pausing every now and then to explain the plotlines to him. Dean’s angel just seemed aggravated, pouting from the couch in the oversized pajama pants Dean had let him borrow.

“We are wasting valuable time, Dean. We should be back on the road. We should be…” Sam was struggling to rise to a sitting position causing both Cas and Dean to pause their argument for a moment. Dean got up off the floor and went to his brother’s side out of habit. Sam was getting too weak to be trusted to walk himself down the hall to the bunker’s bathroom.

Dean lifted most of his brother’s weight, heaving one of Sam’s long arms across his shoulders. Cas grabbed Sam around the waist and together they pulled him to his feet. The sudden movement was too abrupt and Sam saw stars as his vision blurred to a dark tunnel for a moment. He had enough presence of mind to bring one large hand to his mouth before gagging. Cas quickly grabbed the large mixing bowl Dean had brought up from the bunker’s kitchen and maneuvered it in front of Sam as streams of vomit sprayed out from between his fingers.

“ _This_ is why we’re not on the road, Cas. I don’t trust either of you within ten feet of my baby right now.” Dean swallowed hard and looked away as his little brother brought up the contents of his stomach. Sam’s ribcage burned as his stomach muscles tensed and spasmed forcing the air out of his lungs. Sam cringed as he vomited up half digested broth and noodles, evidence of the Lipton soup Dean had forced him to eat earlier. Involuntary tears were streaming down his face before he was finished. He coughed and retched once more, a trickle of bile splashing into the mixing bowl.

Cas took the bowl from him as Dean lowered Sam cautiously back on to the couch. Dean tucked a strand of long messy hair behind his brother’s ear, one rough but cool hand resting against his cheek. Sam was still gasping for air trying to remember how to breathe.

“Hey…it’s ok…I’ve got ya.” Dean stretched out the end of his sleeve pinching it between his fingers to wipe Sam’s face. It was a simple gesture left over from another lifetime ago, back when it was Dean’s soul responsibility to watch out for his little brother. Old habits and muscle memory took over as Sam clung to him. Dean dried the tracks of tears with his sleeve that lined Sam’s face.

“You’re ok, Sammy…” Dean was muttering as he held his brother close. Sam reached out for him, hands entangling in the back of Dean’s t-shirt. “Hey…I’m here…I’m right here…”

Cas abruptly left the room and headed down the hall making a bee line for the bathroom. It had been worse yesterday, Dean remembered. Sam would get sick and it would immediately trigger Cas whether he was nauseous or not at the time. And Dean, well, he could only handle so much of trying to take care of the pair of them before his own stomach turned. At one point, Sam having occupied the toilet and Cas with his head in the sink, Dean had resorted to getting sick in the tub. The logistics of the whole thing had been a little dicey to say the least.

“Sammy…you ok now?” Dean felt his younger brother’s breath begin to even out as he relaxed against him.

“M’ok…” Sam said his voice muffled by Dean’s t-shirt. Cas emerged from the hall, a hand lightly resting on his stomach pushing up the faded t-shirt to reveal his slightly curved middle. His face had turned a pale shade of gray and his eyes were still shining with the remnants of tears. Cas dropped heavily onto the couch on the other side of Dean with an audible groan. Sam made a whimpering sound in his throat at the sudden movement.

“When will this be over?” Cas’ voice was low and exhausted.

“When it wants to be over, Cas. Just gotta ride it out until then.” Dean was still preoccupied with Sam who had curled his long body around his older brother, heavy head lying in his lap. Dean carded his fingers through Sam’s messy hair making his little brother close his eyes.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Dean.” Cas had an air of impatience in his voice.

“You can blame Sam. He’s like the damn carrier monkey from Outbreak.” Dean’s defense mechanism was always sarcasm. Sam managed a smirk in his brother’s general direction but was too exhausted for much else.

“Outbreak. 1995. A mysterious virus becomes airborne and--” Dean cut him off.

“And hilarity ensues. Damn it Cas, I liked it so much better when you didn’t have the damned Internet Movie Database stored in that thick skull a yours.” Sam managed a pathetic sounding laugh, muffled by Dean’s t-shirt that he had buried his face in. “Just…go pick something, anything, ok?”

Cas lifted himself off the couch with a sigh and staggered over to the pile of VHS tapes Dean had left in disarray on the floor in front of the television. He randomly picked one up. Dean piped up before Cas could decipher its hand written label.

“I don’t care what it is, Cas. That’s what we’re watching.” Cas fumbled with the VCR for a few minutes, Dean sarcastically coaching him on how to rewind the tape. Sam watched his slow progress through half open eyes. It was less about watching a movie at this point and more about taking everyone’s mind off of being sick.

Cas returned to his spot beside Dean on the couch before working his way under Dean’s arm. He put a flat palm on Sam’s forehead, something he had taken to doing once a hour, and was pleased to find Dean’s brother felt slightly cooler. Sam stirred opening his eyes and nuzzled his head into Dean’s lap. Dean picked up the remote and hit play. He fiddled with the tracking until the picture became clear.

The movie began with the words “Somewhere between Iowa and reality” as a car appeared over the horizon. Dean rolled his eyes. Cas had randomly picked ‘Michael’ in which John Travolta stars as the archangel.

“Dean, we both know this is not even _slightly_ accura--” Cas started to say. Dean didn’t even give him a chance to finish.

“Cas, just watch the movie, you’ll love it,” Dean said pulling him closer and roughing up his already disheveled hair. “Plus there’s a really great song about pie later on.”

“Mmm…please don’t mention pie…” Sam’s voice sounded small and exhausted.

“Oh, sorry Sammy,” Dean turned the volume down a little on the TV, still loud enough to hear but quiet enough that Sam could drift off to sleep if he was able. The three sat in silence, Sam still resting his weary head in Dean’s lap and Cas curled up under Dean’s arm. They didn’t make it ten minutes before they were all sleeping as the movie played on to an unconscious audience.  

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> on tumblr  
> [jay-sop](http://jay-sop.tumblr.com)  
> [little-known-secret](http://little-known-secret.tumblr.com)


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